


Stiles Stilinski & the Olympians or Whatever

by enbyofdionysus



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-11
Updated: 2014-06-11
Packaged: 2018-02-04 07:54:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1771489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enbyofdionysus/pseuds/enbyofdionysus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sterek Percy Jackson!AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stiles Stilinski & the Olympians or Whatever

**Author's Note:**

> Just a drabble I don't actually plan on continuing.

He’s hammering the head of his new spear when he sees him come in.

New kid. Unclaimed, but clearly Hermes cabin. Derek can recognize it in the way that he moves: more jittery than the others, calculating eyes, intelligent, cocky. Too clever for his own good. He seems to have found his niche well enough, however; not that Derek has been noticing. He follows Scott into the forge like they’re two parts of one whole, flailing his arms around and nearly knocking over someone’s cooling battleaxe. Derek prays silently that he won’t come over, but of course Scott’s head isn’t capable of receiving negative feedback.

“And this is Derek,” Scott says, coming to a stop beside him. Derek glances up briefly, flips the spearhead over, and notices the moles dotting the new kid’s face. They’re like tiny constellations mapping down to his lips, which Derek doesn’t look at at all. He doesn’t find children of Hermes attractive. Won’t. He knows better. “He’s great with weaponry, so if you have a question about metalwork or need help building something, just flag him down and he’ll do what he can. Right, Derek?” Scott nudges him and smiles when Derek doesn’t respond, picking up his hammer. “He looks like he bites, but he won’t, I promise.”

The new kid looks unconvinced, but offers a grin anyhow, shifts his posture a little. “Strong, silent type and knows how to pound,” Derek puts a dent in his spearhead, “I’m taking you’re the head of the Hephaestus cabin.”

“Athena,” Derek grunts. He scowls down at his work, wondering if it would be better to just start over or try to flatten it out again. Fuck his life.

 “Wait,” the new kid says. He folds his arms across his chest and Derek can  _feel_ the question before it’s even asked. Every new kid that at least knows their basic Greek Mythology always asked the same question: “How is that possible? Athena’s a virgin goddess.” It actually became so common of a question that Derek just stopped answering because the answer was too much for newbies, too surreal, too  _fictional_. Their brains rejected what he said and they laughed it off, instead accepting the bullshit gossip that Scott was about to spew.

“Well, you know how Zeus gave birth to Athena on his own?” Scott begins and Derek feels himself wanting to vomit because that’s actually not what happened at all. Something interesting though: the new kid’s eyebrows pinch together as if he knows that too. “Apparently, Athena can connect to mortal men via brain waves or something and a baby is made from their emotional connection.”

The new kid’s mouth stays open through the explanation, but his eyes get smaller and smaller until he’s looking at Scott through slits. His eyes shift to Derek. “He’s kidding right?”

Derek doesn’t say anything.

“Because Athena didn’t  _emerge_ from Zeus’ head like a two-foot long tootsie roll from a pinata. She was born inside of him because Zeus swallowed his first wife, Metis, who was pregnant because of a prophecy that said that his child would overthrow him. Giving birth to a child on your own isn’t possible, even for the gods.” Stiles held his hand up when Scott opened his mouth. “Gods born from the Earth when a god’s semen touches it doesn’t count because the Earth is a goddess.”

“Titaness,” Derek corrects, but it’s nice to hear someone who actually know their shit for once.

“Titaness,” the new kid agrees. He offers Derek a smile. “And since Athena wasn’t born from Zeus alone, that means it’s impossible for Hera to have even wanted to birth a child on her own. Which means that Hephaestus and Ares were sons of  _Zeus_ as well.”

“You know your stuff,” Derek says. He’ll admit he’s impressed.

The new kid smiles, then gives him a curious once-over. “You want to tell me how you’re really a son of Athena then?”

What’s even more interesting is the fact that the new kid,  _Stiles_ , actually seems to accept the truth of what Derek says. His eyebrows go up a little, he nods, then asks just how you can make an actual sword without killing yourself because shouldn’t there be adult supervision, etc. etc.

He talks a lot, but after a while, once Scott leaves them to help the rest of the Hestia cabin make dinner, Derek actually starts to get used to it. It’s like a comfortable kind of background noise. Stiles talks about the outside world, about television shows, comic books, movies. Derek continues to work, but he listens with more thirst than he thought he had. He hasn’t been outside the camp for almost a decade, not since his first, and last, quest. He misses the mortal world more than he thought.

“I heard this place is kind of a stickler for health stuff,” Stiles says over the clanging of Derek’s hammer. “Is there any way to sneak, like, a burger and fries in here?” Before Derek can even reply, though, he busts into a laugh that makes his entire body shake, his mouth opening so wide it’s distracting. Derek doesn’t stare. He doesn’t. “Oh my god— Wait, is it  _gods_  now? Whatever. I sounded like my dad there for a second. He has high blood pressure, so I’ve been trying to keep him away from greasy foods, but I always find him sneaking something.  _Always_.” He’s grinning when he looks up at Derek again, but the smile disappears when he realizes Derek’s staring at him. “What?”

“Your dad.”

“What about him?”

“Your dad is mortal.”

Stiles makes a face. “Well, yeah. We can’t all come out the womb of a wolf and call it our father.”

“No, that’s not what I meant. I mean… I thought you were a son of Hermes.”

Stiles’ face scrunches even more. “You thought I was one of those assholes?”

Derek offers a shrug, but his heart warms knowing he’s not alone in his opinion. He doesn’t have Scott’s heart of gold and while the saying goes  _forgive and forget_ , Derek would like to remind the world that he’s very much a pagan. “It wasn’t so much your personality that made me think of it so much as your behavior.”

“My behavior?”

“You move around a lot,” Derek says.

“I have ADHD.”

“So does everyone else here.”

Stiles lets out a laugh. “No they don’t.” Derek raises an eyebrow, which makes Stiles’ face go serious. “They don’t. Having the urge to move or whatever you guys call your  _demigod battle reflexes_ ,” he actually gives the fingerquotes, “isn’t the same thing as ADHD. Just because the mortals confuse it doesn’t mean it’s the same thing. Trust me. If it were, I’d have more friends.”

They don’t say anything for a few minutes while Derek finishes up and at first Derek thinks he might have sent Stiles into a mood, but the kid’s face lights up instantly at the sound of the dinner horn. It’s a little endearing.

“Do you want to sit with me and Scott?” Stiles asks once Derek’s finished washing his hands and they’re headed to the dining pavilion.

“You’re not actually allowed to sit with people from other cabins,” Derek says. “It’s a dumb rule, but it’s—”

“Like the Hogwarts houses,” Stiles finishes and it makes Derek smile.

“Yeah, kind of like that.”

“So how come I can sit with Scott?”

“You’re undecided,” Derek explains. “Because Hestia is the goddess of the home and hearth, her door is open to anyone in need of it. The same goes for the Hermes cabin because their father is the god of travelers.”

“When will I be decided?” Stiles asks.

Derek offers a sad smile. “That, unfortunately, I can’t answer. However, I  _can_ say one thing.”

“What’s that?”

Derek moves away to take his seat at his long, empty table. “I want you on my team for capture the flag.”

 

* * *

 

 

Stiles has decided that he hates Capture the Flag. Like not just ‘wow this kind of sucks’ hate, but  _How the Grinch Stole Christmas_ hate. Because he now understands why he’s always hated gym class: those assholes who always insisted on playing by the rules and playing to win without even considering the word fun? They were all  _demigods_.

Except now they were  _worse_. Because they had  _weapons_. And they were  _using them_.

Stiles literally just saw some daughter of Ares shoot a handcrafted bow and arrow through some guy’s shoulder blade and leave him to bleed to death on the forest floor.

If Scott hadn’t reassured him that the devil’s snare pulling the limp body into the ground were the children of Dionysus taking wounded campers to the infirmary, he probably would’ve tried to escape via the Sound because there was no way in Hell or Hades or what the flaming heck ever that he was going to be a part of the Hunger Games because unless Captain Bearded-and-Attractive from the forge was going to be his Peeta, he was going to  _die_. It isn’t that Stiles isn’t brave, okay? Because he is. He just isn’t used to a bunch of teenagers going  _Lord of the Flies_ on each other over a piece of cloth on a stick.

“Practice for monsters, my ass,” Stiles hisses, wiping his sweaty brow and becoming one with the tree at his back. “More like population control.”

There’s a soft laugh to his right and Stiles almost jumps out of his skin, but a second later he’s grinning his face off because he can’t help it okay? It’s totally not his fault. “Where’s your spear?”

“It got lost in some kid’s kidney,” Derek supplies and Stiles waits for the ‘just kidding,’ but it doesn’t come.

“That’s… terrifying.”

Derek just smiles like impaling children is his life’s work and he quickly peeks around the tree before tugging Stiles’ torn t-shirt. “It’s clear. Come on.”

“Oh,  _hell_ no. I did not sign up for this. I am staying  _right here_.”

“Scott needs our help to get the flag.”

Ugh. Of course. The Scott Needs Our Help card. “Fine. But you owe me curly fries.”

It’s actually fairly easy to get to the Ares’ cabin’s flag and at first Stiles is extremely suspicious that there’s an ambush waiting for them until he realizes that Derek’s been maneuvering them around every single guard. “Are you sure  _you’re_ not a child of Hermes?” Stiles asks, face a wall of disbelief when they tear the flag down.

“Battle strategy,” Derek reminds him, then abruptly stills.

“What is it?” Stiles asks, but his only answer is to be pulled by the front of the shirt with terrifying force and shoved toward the trees.

“Run!” Derek yells. He shoves the flag into his hands, but just as he’s about to turn and fend off whatever attacker he’d heard behind them, an arrow shoots down from the trees behind them and pierces Derek’s right thigh and he  _roars_.

In fact, the next thing that happens should probably make Stiles piss himself because his entire week has been full of ridiculous shit that would break anyone’s sanity. A hydra tried to kill his dad; he had to leave his hometown for some weird summer camp; a half-man, half-horse sat him down and explained to him that _oh, hey, yeah, so the Greek gods are totally real and science makes absolutely no sense anymore and neither do the seasons, is it Persephone or the Earth orbiting you’ll never know anymore;_  he watched a guy get crushed to death by two walls of solid rock with lava which, for some, reason he was climbing for  _sport;_  and now the super hot guy who actually seemed to  _not_  be annoyed by him had dangerously sharp fangs and glowing blue eyes.

“You weren’t joking about the wolf origin,” Stiles says, his voice cracking.

“ _Run!_ ”

For a second, the week catches up with him and the adrenaline in his veins give in to Derek’s words. But Stiles refuses to be anything but Stiles and so he grabs the front of Derek’s shirt with just as much force and hauls him forward despite the agony it probably causes the other boy. “Not without you, big guy!”

Stiles actually has no idea what happens pretty much after that point because once they start at a half-jog with Stiles half-carrying Derek, the world is a blur. All he knows is that when he crosses that finish line, he expects cheering. Lots and lots of cheering. Cheering, which doesn’t come and for a second he thinks he accidentally dropped the flag on his way through the trees and underbrush. But the flag is still in his hand, drenched in mud and sweat. He holds it aloft at the bleeding, awed faces just staring at them and gives it a little wave because he did not just carry a 240 lb man through the Forbidden Forest for no one to acknowledge their win.

But then Derek sucks in a little gasp and says, “ _Stiles_. Look up.”

Stiles has no idea what he’s seeing when he does because it looks like a hallogram of a bird, but everyone else seems to understand because then in the next moment everyone’s kneeling including the horse guy Stiles still refuses to believe is the original Chiron.

“All hail Stiles Stilinski,” the centaur says, his head bowed. “Son of Aphrodite, Goddess of Love.”

What.

**Author's Note:**

> The origin on the children of Athena I made up was like Ares had boasted about his children being magnificent heroes etc. and Athena and Ares kind of have a rivalry, so to prove to him that her heroes would be better, she placed her ovum into the womb of a wolf and birthed Derek and his brothers and sisters who were all killed by a monster summoned to the camp by Kate Argent, a daughter of Hermes, while Derek and Laura were away on a quest.
> 
> Laura isn’t in the Camp with Derek because she joined the Hunters of Artemis.
> 
> I should’ve made Scott a son of Ares, but the option of making him a son of Hestia was there and I took it before I could consider otherwise.


End file.
